Malik's Second Chance
by Dillian and Winja
Summary: Desperate to give her brother a second chance after Battle City, Isis Ishtar calls on an old acquaintance in America to take him in.  Will the move bring Pegasus and Malik the new hope they both need, or will they still be trapped, repeating old patterns?
1. Isis' Call

Yu-Gi-Oh is the property of Konami and Kazuki Takahashi, and this work is only a very appreciative celebration, from which we hope to derive no profit of any kind.

"We have to do something, Rishid."

"I know, sister." The tall tomb keeper's calm appearance belied his inner turmoil. Tense, his fingers clenched, he was still feeling the effects of his latest fight with his younger brother, who'd been rebellious, and upset ever since they'd returned from Domino City, a month earlier. This was only the latest time that Malik had riled up the household, screaming about how suffocated he felt here, how bad memories and the constant burden of the Tomb Keepers Tribe were killing him. Rishid, knowing their underground home is the wrong place for his brother, couldn't really argue. But where else had there been to go? Where else was there for the Ishtars, who'd been tomb-keepers for so many generations, that they no longer even had any connections they could appeal to in the outside world?

"We all need to leave here," he said, his voice modest yet firm. "This isn't a good environment."

"It's going to take time to find a new home," Isis replied, her own voice tight. "It's going to take time to get back on our feet. I'm not sure how… "

"I know you can do it." As always, Rishid had utter faith in his sister. He didn't care, and he knew Isis and Malik didn't care either, that they weren't actually related; the Ishtars have never treated him any different less for being adopted. "But in the meantime, every day, every hour, every moment, that Malik stays here, is killing him."

"I know." Isis looked into the direction of where Malik had gone, knowing she'd never be able to find him, if he wanted to hide in the labyrinth of underground corridors and passages that made up their home. "I wish I knew what I could do about it. We can't send Malik away to just anywhere. He'll think we're rejecting him."

"Malik needs something new to challenge him." Rishid sounded like he was thinking as he talked. He sounded troubled, a little uncomfortable. Maybe he was thinking about the peaceful life he and Isis could share if it was just the two of them living together. That wasn't _rejecting_Malik, was it? Was it his fault if what was best for him, would also make life better for Rishid and Isis? His voice gets stronger, as he starts to feel more justified in what he's saying. "Is there someplace he could go," he said, his voice sounding stronger, sounding like he was beginning to feel more justified, "that would be far away, and totally different from here? Someplace where he'll learn to do different things, be a different person..."

Isis looked at him, and his voice faltered. "I mean he needs to _feel _like a different person," he said. "All he's ever been able to do here is help us guard the past. Don't you know someone who could give him a job?" he asked. "Maybe someone associated with the Museum?"

"You want Malik to have a _job?_" As tense as she was, Isis lashed out. Then she caught herself at once. Catching Rishid's hand, "I'm sorry, brother," she said, her voice tired. "But we have to be realistic. Malik has no skills. How would he have gotten them, brother? When did father ever give any of us the chance to learn anything normal?"

"He knows Japanese," Rishid objected. "He knows the basic outline of the world. Sister…"

"He taught himself Japanese with the goal to participate in Battle City. He knows some of the world because of you. Look at him, Rishid, just look at him. I know how much you love him, I love him too; he's our brother. But he's so far behind other students his age, there's no way I can enroll him in any school." They both fell silent, still sitting together. After a while Isis let go of Rishid's hand, her elegant fingers going up to touch her neck, as if to feel if the Tauk was still there. It wasn't, of course. "And now you want to send him away… _far_away?"

"Sister, please," Rishid spoke again. "I want what's best for him, you know that. He's my brother too. But if we have to be realistic. We aren't doing him any favors by keeping him here. He's been caged for so long. I want him to meet the world, fly towards new opportunities, new changes, new discoveries. He deserves so much more than to stay down here with the dark and the silence."

Isis sighed. "What can I do?" she said. "There's no position available at the Museum right now, except as a tour guide. Do you really think Malik..."

"You have to give him a chance," Rishid interrupted, then cast his eyes down at once, adding, "I'm sorry. Please finish your sentence."

"I doubt Malik will feel happy as a tour guide. He needs someone to learn from, someone who knows how the world works, how business works. I can't teach him that. He needs a mentor," Isis said. "He really needs someone to show him."

* * *

><p>Fingers wrapped around her mug of tea, Isis stared at the phone in front of her. She'd come into work early today, wanting to make this call from the Cairo National Museum where she could have privacy. Isis shivered. She'd thought long, after that last fight with Malik, searched her mind for some way that she could give him the chance he needed. Then she'd remembered: She had the phone number of Pegasus J. Crawford; he'd left it with her when he gave the God Cards into her possession. Could that be the solution to her problems? Pegasus, in the far away United States, could help Malik. He was a businessman, a man of the world, and he owed the Ishtars far more than he probably even knew. Malik would be in a safe, controlled environment with him; he could learn business skills, and how to life as a normal person. The idea had problems, she knew. Pegasus hadn't seemed like the most stable of people when she'd known him. But she didn't have much choice, now did she?<p>

Sighing, Isis picked up the phone.

* * *

><p>7:30 A.M. found Pegasus J. Crawford at his desk, in his office on the top floor of Industrial Illusions Headquarters, the one with the wall of windows and the view of the California coast (kind of wasted, he always thought, since he spent all the time he was in there, working). A cup of coffee at his elbow, a stack of Duel Monsters prototypes in front of him, he was making extraordinarily good use of the time before a meeting, for someone whose reputation was more for being a self-centered playboy than for working.<p>

From the outside, his past experiences didn't seem to have marked him any. His hair in place as always, his clothes perfect and tidy, he sat there calm-faced, just turning pages, just looking over one sketch after another and making notes as needed with his red pencil. He looked the perfect businessman, role-perfect in his position as head of an international gaming company, and a stranger might have been surprised to find out that a year ago he'd been an active duelist himself, in competition for the title King of Games. They'd have been all the more surprised if they'd known that had been in his own tournament, held on his private island, Duelist Kingdom. And if they'd found out how he'd lost to a 17-year old? And about the second defeat he'd suffered that night, the one that had almost ended in his death? Let's just leave it at this: From the outside, Pegasus J. Crawford looked like any other executive at the height of his game.

He was about to go into a meeting. Industrial Illusions had a programming department, but it wasn't the company's specialty. It didn't have to be, not with Duel Monsters so big, coming off two successful tournaments in a row. Companies were lining up to design games for them, and all he had to do was find the one that could do the best job. That was all that was on his mind, just the upcoming meeting, the questions he was going to want good answers for, before he chose to go with any one company. The last thing on his mind was Egypt, even though he'd made, not one, but several visits there – Even though those visits, and the things that had happened there, had really been the genesis for the game which was making him so fabulously rich and successful now. And, when he heard the phone ring through to his office, all he thought was that perhaps the representatives from LJN weren't going to be able to make it to today's meeting.

"Pegasus J. Crawford," he said, picking up the phone. "Who am I speaking with?"

"Isis Ishtar." That was all she said, just her name, and her confidence that that was all she'd need was justified, by the drawn-out silence that was his only response. She allowed it to draw out for a moment, not to overwhelm him, but to give him the time to gather his wits.

"Isis," Pegasus didn't bother to address her formally either. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Had he composed himself this quickly again? She couldn't read his mind; she had no way to know one way or the other. Well, she could conduct business as well as anyone.

Cutting right to the chase, "I am calling on behalf of my brother. Malik," she told the American. "I don't know if you met him when you were in Egypt. He was still very young at the time." ….And their father had been alive, and forcing him to study the ancient scriptures and 'prepare for his ultimate sacrifice: the carving of the Tomb Keepers' on his back, the holy and sick tradition she so abhorred. "Malik has grown up," she continued, "in circumstances that weren't good for him. I want his life to improve, to be better."

"A fascinating story," Pegasus interrupted, his tone dry and hard to read, "but I'm about to go into a meeting right now. I don't have time to listen to a lot of stories. What do you want from me, Isis?"

"All I want is a place in this world for my younger brother. He deserves it, and I know you can help him."

"You're asking for an internship?" Pegasus glanced at his watch. "The HR department handles that. I'll put in a good word if you like," he said. "What was your brother's name again?"

"No." A firm, solid 'no'. "I am asking for a mentor, a tutor. I need someone who will personally teach Malik how the world works. It has to be you, Pegasus. You are the only one who can do this for him."

"I'm sorry Isis, but you're barking up the wrong tree." Pegasus looked at his watch again; if he were a ruder man, he'd already have transferred the call to someone else, who could let the woman down easy. "I can't help you, businesses just don't work that way. If your brother wants to apply for an internship..."

"Our tribe helped make you the man you are now. The discovery of the Monsters, the mythology, the entire history behind it: Where would you be now if it weren't for us? Would you send us out into the cold now, after a simple request for help?"

"_Your tribe _took advantage of me way more than I took advantage of them." Was Shaadi a member of whatever tribe Isis and her brother belonged to? Was he even human? The bitterness of what happened in Egypt had stayed with Pegasus, it's just below the surface; and to him, the visits he made to the Pharaoh's tomb were just a second part to the earlier visit he'd made, to the underground chamber where Shaadi gave him the Eye.

"I'm going into a meeting." Pegasus was manufacturing justifications as hard as he could now, trying to get away from Isis' call, without feeling too guilty. But he was so used to feeling guilty now; there was so much, wasn't there, for him to feel guilty for?

"Remember the Gods?" Her voice stopped his, all the excuses, all the insistences that he had to go. "I showed them to you, remember?" she said. "And I hid the Cards, after you realized you couldn't handle them. I never did anything but to help you," she said, "and I never complained when you took what I showed you and used it to make a fortune for yourself. _You owe me this, Pegasus_."

"I don't _owe_ you anything," he says, but his voice had no conviction left in it. "Your brother has to stand or fall on his own abilities." It was a capitulation, he knew it and she knew it, for all he still did his best to make it on his own terms. "You can send him," he said. "I'll let him stay if he can make himself useful, otherwise he goes home."


	2. Malik in San Francisco

Yu-Gi-Oh is the property of Konami and Kazuki Takahashi, and this work is only a very appreciative celebration, from which we hope to derive no profit of any kind.

California was 26 hours away by plane. It was an unnatural-feeling way to travel; Malik was going halfway across the globe, not at a normal pace, like when he'd sailed to Japan, not at speeds a person could control, like he might with a car or a motorcycle, but traveling at hundreds of miles per hour. At this pace he could go around the world in two days, since one day was taking him halfway around. - He almost wished he _were_going, all the way around and back home, to end up with with Isis and Rishid, where no matter how ugly the situation was, at least it was familiar.

In California, he didn't know what he was going to find. He told himself that there was no way it could be all that different from what he'd seen in Domino City, - He thought back, visualizing what Domino had been like: He remembered the humidity, the streets that felt like they were crowded with people his age. He remembered pop music that seemed to be playing everywhere, restaurants and stands, selling unfamiliar Japanese food, and coin-operated machines on every corner, selling soda, beer, and in one memorable instance, underwear. Nothing could have been more different from Cairo, much less from the empty desert where he'd grown up. How much more different could California possibly be?

And finally the interminable flight was over. The plane was coming down, through cloud cover that looked like it was never going to end. They were landing, and the bright sunshine he'd expected never had come back; the windows all along the interior of the plane all showed the same dark-grey color, with no light was coming in at all. Hadn't Isis told him it would be morning when he arrived? Early morning, wasn't that what she'd said? But it looked like night out there on the tarmac.

Then he was being bundled out into a crowded airport, where a grim man in sunglasses took charge of him right away before he could even look around and get his bearings. A long walk, jostling crowds the entire way, a ride in the backseat of a sleek, late-model grey sedan, the streets outside wet with rain, the colors of the storefronts muted, in the grey, morning weather. Malik was delivered to a large building a few miles out of town, Industrial Illusions corporate headquarters apparently, and hurried upstairs to meet the CEO, Pegasus J. Crawford.

* * *

><p>Crocketts wasn't pleased, but neither was he particularly surprised, when he caught sight of the Egyptian boy: He'd done babysitting duty before, not for a while, not since Pegasus had been a teenager himself, but kids didn't change much, did they? Malik's exotic appearance didn't surprise him; it was hard for someone to outdo Pegasus when it came to exotic appearance, even if they were wearing blue jeans and a sleeveless black t-shirt, and practically glittering with gold jewelry. His untidiness was a bit of a shock though. Pegasus wouldn't have gone around with his hair uncombed like that if he were escaping from a burning building, much less just because he'd just gotten off a plane.<p>

This didn't change his cold expression though, as he eyed Malik up and down. "You're not dressed properly for an office."

The boy scowled. Then he opened his mouth. You could never tell with children, what he was going to say, and probably the odds were better that he was going to spew defiance of some sort, rather than apologizing, which was what he ought to do, but Crocketts gave him the benefit of the doubt. "Never mind," he told Malik. "You'll do for today. We have to hurry. Mr. Crawford is waiting."

"I've got Isono in baggage to pick up your suitcase," he added as he hurried toward the entrance of the terminal, leaving Malik to follow. Behind him, the boy could have been doing anything. He could have been arguing, or swearing under his breath. - He could have been readying himself to throw a punch at Crocketts' head, and it wouldn't have fazed the ex-Chief of Security. Actually, he would rather have liked that last. Having an excuse to punch out the rumpled little brat would have made a refreshing start for his day. He didn't leave Malik time enough to do anything though, just rushed the two of them out, and into his grey company car. Pegasus was waiting across town, and no matter if he had become less dictatorial after the accident that had happened on Duelist Kingdom, he still wasn't a man who tolerated anything but full performance from his employees.

Across town, from the airport, to the prime real estate location of Industrial Illusions Headquarters, on a cliffside overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Crocketts led the way, glancing back only when absolutely necessary to see that Malik was following, and managed to deliver his young charge outside Master Pegasus' office door right on schedule. It was all about knowing the best routes to avoid the morning traffic. He did not give the boy any credit for their having managed to get here so quickly of course, even though Malik had at least, cooperated fairly well on their way over.

Instead, he eyed him, expressionless as always, behind his sunglasses. "Behave yourself when Mr. Crawford calls you in," he told him. "Try to make a good impression."

* * *

><p>"<em>You're late." "You're not dressed properly for the office." "Behave yourself." <em>What was this, a babysitter? He wasn't a kid anymore, to let people talk to him like this. Even Isis didn't do it. Malik wanted to open his mouth and retort, but he held back. It was better to think before saying something in return, and regretting it later. He didn't want to build up more anger and resentment, did he? So he kept his mouth shut, no matter how hard it was. He didn't want to disappoint his sister and his brother, and he was sure that Pegasus J. Crawford wouldn't hesitate for a moment to kick him back to Egypt if he did something the man didn't like. Malik Ishtar wasn't a quitter; the thought of going home with his head hanging in shame was horrible.

Crocketts was fast, his movements brisk and energetic, and Malik actually had trouble keeping up. He was so focused on the man that he barely got time or opportunity to look around, and take in the magnificent scenery of the building's location, and the fancy interior decoration. He was almost out of breath when they finally reached their destination, after a walk that felt longer than the trek from his old home in the desert to Cairo.

Finally, they stopped though, Crocketts knocking on an office door that didn't look much different from all the other doors they had passed. "Wait here," he said, entering the office himself, and leaving the door ajar. Malik leaned in a little, to hear what was said.

"The boy is here," Crocketts spoke as if he were talking about a disposable object. "Would you like to see him now, Mr. Crawford? Have you got time before your meeting?"

"A little," Pegasus' voice came through the open door. "You were very prompt, Crocketts." A confused murmur, that was Crocketts' voice, followed, and then Malik heard Pegasus again. "Have my secretary tell LJN I'll be late," he said, "not more than ten or fifteen minutes. I want to talk Malik before he gets to work."

Malik's view of the office was limited, just what he could see through the half-open door. Movement from inside told him someone was coming back to the door, but he couldn't make out right away who it was. Then as the figure came closer, the flash of colored clothing made it clear: This wasn't Crocketts, who was wearing a black suit, so it must be Pegasus. He opened the door the rest of the way, and Malik could see him fully.

The American's face brought back vague memories. Pegasus' face, half-hidden by his long, silver hair, was familiar, in kind of a distant way.. He remembered seeing him when he'd visited the Pharaoh's tomb to sketch the carvings on the walls. Initially curious at this visitor who'd come from so far away, and hoping he would have stories to tell about city life, or anything more interesting than his own tombkeeper's existence, Malik had lost interest soon enough once he realized that all Pegasus was there for, was to draw as many of the ancient Monsters as he could. But he remembered his face, the smile that looked pleasant and almost warm when you first saw it, but that ultimately told nothing about Pegasus' thoughts or intentions.

Pegasus looked at him. "Malik?" he said. "Come into my office. Won't you have a seat? Crocketts," here he glanced at the dark-suited assistant, "was just leaving."

* * *

><p>Not waiting for Malik to sit, Pegasus returned to his own side of the desk and sat down. He rested his elbows on the gleaming mahogany surface and looked the boy (the young man?) up and down, feeling …uncomfortable, maybe even as uncomfortable as Malik looked. He was the head of a business. That was his job. After what had happened on Duelist Kingdom, when he'd gambled everything, and lost (and had to face up to the darkness in his own soul as well), it was almost a lifeline as well. It was what gave his life meaning. He didn't have supernatural power, he didn't have someone to love, but he had Industrial Illusions, he had Duel Monsters, which was kicking the ass of every other game in the world, and he could make a life of them both at the top if he had to.<p>

What he wasn't, was a daddy, or a big brother. - He wasn't the kind of guy most people would choose as a mentor. Didn't busyness count against a man? Or a dark past that verged on the criminal? Just the thought of having a boy, any boy, in his charge, gave him misgivings, that he pushed back only with an effort of will. Then, when he looked at the boy Isis had sent him they all came flooding back.

'_Don't you ever smile?_' that's what he wanted to ask Malik, or perhaps, '_why not comb your hair for a change?_' But that would be rude of course, wouldn't it? And so instead, "welcome to Industrial Illusions," he said. "As long as you're willing to work, you'll get along quite well."

* * *

><p>"Thank you, Mister Crawford," Malik said, following Isis' instructions to say 'thank you' to everything and call Pegasus 'Mister Crawford' and not 'Pegasus' to his face. If he was going to be his mentor, some respect was due. He didn't like it though; the thought of being dependent of this man, or anyone else for that matter, was hateful to him. But Isis was right: If he really wanted to make something of his future, and go to a university, he had to of learning to catch up. Being able to recite old scriptures backwards and forwards wasn't going to help him in the real world.<p>

This was his first time in an office at all, much less an incredible, spacious, "I AM THE BOSS HERE," office like Pegasus'. Malik couldn't help but feel intimidated. What he also felt, was nervous. And he wondered, what would his new job entail?

"I'm willed to work," he said, his lack of proper English grammar showing. Rishid had drilled some of the language into him before he left, but mostly the basic expressions and verbs. Malik scowled. He felt insecure, and he hated feeling insecure.

* * *

><p>Pegasus made a mental note to have Crocketts find a tutor to teach the boy English. Here was one more thing he didn't know …on top of not knowing how to dress, and not knowing how to act, and not even knowing whether he should sit or stand, when he'd been invited to come in and sit down in his boss's office. He should get a medal, if he turned this uncouth child into a good employee, he told himself, giving Malik the best smile he could manage. "All I ask is that you work hard," he said, "and that you learn as much as you can. I'm sure you'll do fine. Your sister is a smart woman, and that kind of thing runs in families."<p>

"I'm going to assign you a mentor from I2's internship program," he said. "I don't have time to give you all the training you're going to need. And I don't want to assign you to a department at random. We want you working someplace you'll do well and feel comfortable. Watanabe's the best mentor we've got," he said. "I've already checked, and he can meet you in the Clerical Department at 9:00. I'll be in a meeting, but he'll take over showing you around and seeing what you're good at."

"It's hard on you, just getting dumped in a new country and a new situation like this," he said. "I wish I could be around more to help, but it's hard to spare the time."

* * *

><p>"I understand," Malik answered in a monotonous tone, and gave Pegasus the respectful half-bow he'd seen businessmen give their superiors when he was in Domino. He wasn't looking forward to meeting this Watanabe; he was barely used to Pegasus, but it would be too much to expect him to hold his hand the entire time. Malik did understand that the CEO had more to do, he was a successful businessman after all, and he had to be grateful for this chance he'd been given… which annoyed him to no end. He wasn't used to being grateful, and even though it wasn't rubbed in his face, his mind kept circling around the fact that he '<em>had to be grateful'<em>. Annoyed and irritated, he followed his new employer out of his office, and down three floors in the elevator, to the Clerical Department.

"Good morning, Malik," the man who greeted him when they arrived was Asian, and dressed in a suit almost as elegant as Pegasus' own. "I'm Yushiko Watanabe," he said. "Pegasus told me that you're going to be under my wing from now on." He smiled. "That's my job," he said, "I work with students to get them used to how we do things here. I need to find out what skills you've got, and what you're interested in, so we can make sure to place you correctly."

The Clerical Department was made up of one long hallway, with offices radiating out on both sides. People kept hurrying to and fro, adults in business suits like Watanabe, and people his own age, who all seemed to be wearing suits as well. Every time he felt like he was getting his bearings, it felt like, that's when someone else would rush by, barely saying "excuse me," as they came close to stepping all over him.

"I …Mr. Crawford, er, I don't really have any skills," Malik told his new mentor. "I just …I've never worked in an office before." He sounded nervous even to his own ears, but at least he was handling this.

"This is too much for you, isn't it?" Watanabe cut into Malik's thoughts. "Let's go into your office and sit down," he added, as he led the way down the hallway, and into one of the closed doors on the right. Inside, there was a desk with a computer on it, one chair pushed in, and one on the opposite side of the desk, for a guest. Watanabe pulled the other chair around, and indicated for him to sit. Then, with both of them facing the computer, he turned it on. "Let's start out by finding out what you can do," he said. "How much experience have you had with computers," he asked. "What programs do you know how to use?"

It was pretty much disheartening to admit that he hadn't used computers at all, and his only exposure at modern technology was a Duel Disk and a phone. He knew of technology, obviously, but he had never had to use it, and in the Tombkeeper Tribe, everything mechanical or electrical had been frowned upon. A wave of anger flared, pure hatred towards his father, who had isolated them even more than tradition called for, keeping them away from the modern world, maintaining the traditions and rituals that had cost his own life. As always when thinking of his father, the carvings on his back started to itch and ache, and Malik felt his body stiffen.

"I'm very sorry, I haven't been able to work with computers much," he said. "My experience is very limited." He hated admitting weaknesses, and reminded himself that it wasn't his fault; he couldn't help the way he'd been raised. This fact only made him feel angrier.

To make matters worse, Watanabe looked at him as if he'd grown a second head, staring for a long moment, before he could bring himself to speak. "All right," he finally said. "Well, computers are very easy to use, but you have to know your way around, of course. Most software programs work intuitively. Have you got any experience at all?" he continued. "Have you used the Internet? Played computer games?"

"No, I'm sorry," Malik said again his voice turning from wooden to annoyed. Gods, how many more times was he going to have to apologize?

"All right," Watanabe said again and Malik wanted to strangle him. No, it was _not_all right! His father had taken away all of his chances, all of his opportunities! If it weren't for him, Malik would've gone to a regular school, and he would be a regular teenager by now, with a cell phone and Internet, and his biggest worry would probably be which new model cell phone to buy.

Perhaps Watanabe picked up on his aggravation, because he pulled his own chair away from the desk, letting Malik get closer.

"You'll learn," he said.

* * *

><p>Watanabe was used to dealing with the cream of the crop, when it came to trainees. Industrial Illusions was a major company, and one that specialized in games, which meant that they always had way more applicants for their internship program than they could ever even consider. He and the other mentors would sift off a few at a time, then choose the best, the smartest, the most successful-looking kids in the pile. The last time he'd dealt with a kid like Malik, who was ignorant, and grumpy about his ignorance... Well he hadn't dealt with a kid like Malik, had he? Not since he was in High School himself, anyway. What did Pegasus see in the boy, he wondered. Why bring him here, from whatever country it was he'd grown up in and give him an internship place that might have been filled by someone with more potential? And why give <em>him<em> the job of mentoring him… Well that one was easily answered of course: Because he was the best mentor with the program. If anyone could turn this sullen lump of ignorance into a good employee, he could.

And the first step was to teach him some computer skills. Watanabe smiled. He smiled as if he was getting paid to do it, and he looked at Malik, who was staring at the computer screen like it had insults written on it or something. He'd never dealt with someone who was a total computer-virgin before. It beggared belief, it was like meeting a throwback from the dark ages.

"I'm guessing your family is really religious?" His mental image was some kind of tiny, angry little sect, living way up in the mountains and never coming down to interact with the modern world. "They had a lot of rules for you when you were growing up?" Malik didn't respond, but he also didn't blow up and start shouting at him (which considering his expression, had kind of seemed like a possibility). Watanabe continued, and as he talked, he opened an internet link. He was going to do the unthinkable, and let his charge play with social media on company time. If Pegasus found out… Well fortunately he had a pretty good record with the company; he was counting on his boss to trust his judgment here.

"I was raised pretty conservative as well," he said. "Japanese Christians are a tight-knit group. And I was the eldest son, I had to live up to my whole family's expectations. I wasn't allowed to go out on a date until I was 18, and then it was only with girls whose parents were friends with my parents."

He had the page open, and he called Malik's attention to it. "This is Facebook," he said. "You can use it to talk to your friends and family members, if any of them are on the Internet. It's pretty easy to use, and you'll learn a lot of computer skills while you're using it."

* * *

><p>Malik sat down, if only not to look at Watanabe's face. He appreciated the man not belittling him, but his even his intentionally non-judgmental comments shamed him. And they scared him for the future. What kind of a future was there for him, when he had to learn so much that came naturally to everyone else around him? Trying to push these thoughts aside, he instead focused his attention on the computer, this so-called 'Facebook'. It didn't look like a book, but he saw a lot of text, and some pictures…<p>

"How does my family know I'm on here?" he asked. No one in the Ishtar family had a a computer, but he thought there was one Isis used, at the Museum.

Watanabe pointed at the screen. "You have to register first, otherwise the computer doesn't know who you are," he said. You have to create a profile, we can do that together if you want, step by step."

Well, at least one Ishtar was on the Internet, Malik thought wryly as he and Watanabe went through the process to register. Maybe, if he made some friends in America, he could keep in touch. For now though, he was getting ahead of himself. He was still struggling with shift, caps lock and enter; such simple skills, but everything was new to him. Watanabe probably thought he was a simpleton, he thought, gritting his teeth and struggling with the keyboard.

* * *

><p>It took most of the morning to get Malik registered. Watanabe wouldn't have believed it, but it actually seemed that he had never used a computer before in his life. It was all he could do to keep his a positive attitude, while Malik stumbled through tasks that would have taken a kid of twelve about two minutes. Watanabe didn't hear the knock on the door, and he didn't know that Pegasus was there, until he came up behind them. "click here," he said, leaning in to look over Malik's shoulder at the computer screen, "and the instructions will show you how to post photographs."<p>

He turned. And Malik (with an angry expression, as usual) turned as well. "It's time for lunch." Pegasus' voice, as well as his face, were bland. "I've got an English tutor coming to meet you at the house at 1:30. The staff will give you lunch when you get home."

* * *

><p>Actually, Malik couldn't care less about lunch. He was feeling tired, almost exhausted, from working his way through the entire registration progress and dealing with Watanabe. The man was a good tutor, but he wasn't too good at hiding his increasing disbelief about Malik's total lack of computer knowledge and skills. However, his stomach decided for him and Malik covered up its rumbling by coughing awkwardly. He hadn't expected Pegasus to check up on him and he felt humiliated, that the man who generously had taken him in, was confronted with him being so.<p>

"Lunch will be fine," he all but snapped back and avoided looking at Watanabe, who stood to leave the office too, as he got up.

"You go ahead," the tutor said. "I'll have some office skill tests for you when you return. I can find something to increase your typing skills too."

Pegasus looked at him, his face as bland as before. "I expect success from you, Watanabe," he said. "You can use the standard forms to track Malik's progress."

Malik noticed that he had balled his hands into fists. A progress report? What the heck? Was he really being monitored like a small kid? A wave of bile rose up in his throat and he scrunched up his face in a bitter, angry expression. Immediately, a headache sprung up, and he willed himself to relax. He only managed half-way, and he didn't dare to say something, out of fear that he'd say something he'd regret later. '_Be grateful,' _he thought, _'Be a good boy.'_

"All right, let's go then," Pegasus leading the way out of the office. "I know it all must seem pretty overwhelming." As he spoke, he led the way to the elevator and then, when they'd reached the lobby, from there out to his car, which was waiting at the curb.

"I like being busy," Malik answered. "I'm looking forward to all that I can learn." What he was really looking forward to, was the English class. He liked languages, and English was a good one to know. It was going to make his computer work, and anything else he was going to be doing at I2. What he wished though, was that there could be a way to make dealing with the other people around him easier as well. Watanabe made him uncomfortable, with the constant surprise he showed, every time Malik didn't know something. And dealing with Pegasus was stressful as well, his host apparently unable to hide his discomfort at having to deal with him. It wasn't until he was working with his English tutor, Will Johnson – After a too-long, uncomfortably silent lunch with Pegasus. – that Malik managed to take a real breath again and relax.

Mr. Johnson launched immediately into grammar and conversation, making Malik write down all the verbs and vocabulary he didn't know or recognize yet. His tutoring was strict, yet playful - not boring verbs all the time, but also some fun etymology which gave him insight in the origin of the language. He'd had to learn Japanese on his own, and it hadn't been easy; English on the other hand, looked like it might actually be fun.

"It's time to stop," Johnson said when the clock struck four. "You've worked very hard, Malik. I think I'm going to enjoy tutoring you."

Malik hadn't realized it was this late already, he'd been enjoying the class so much. Johnson wasn't stiff like Crocketts; he wasn't awkward like Pegasus, or surprised-looking like Watanabe. His friendly manner and positive attitude had given Malik's self-confidence a boost, which he'd desperately needed. He nodded, his head overflowing with irregular verb conjugations.

"Mr. Crawford told me not to spare you when it came to homework," Johnson told him, his eyes twinkling above his glasses, "but I think with this much effort, you deserve to take it easy before it's time for our next class. I want you to watch three movies and write down at least fifteen new verbs per movie, and conjugate them in present tense only."


	3. The Dark Malik Shows His Face

Yu-Gi-Oh is the property of Konami and Kazuki Takahashi, and this work is only a very appreciative celebration, from which we hope to derive no profit of any kind.

Two weeks later found Malik settled in a routine, sort-of. He spent the mornings at I2, under the tutelage of Watanabe (who's patience had to be praised; teaching someone the basics of computers was a time-consuming, energy-burning effort, with not much satisfaction to it), and the afternoons, he spent with his English tutor. Learning English was something that went better for Malik. He even enjoyed Mr. Johnson's classes; he liked toying with language, and his tutor had a knack for lovely word puns. However, he was strict with his homework and he kept increasing the workload, to make sure the class would keep on challenging his student.

Work-work-work, study-study-study, computer-computer-computer: There was nothing else left in Malik's life, and every day ended with him feeling like he'd been run over by a bus. He made progress though, that was for sure. His English exceeded Rishid's (who had made a FaceBook profile along with Isis) now, and he was coming close to being as good as his sister. She knew the language because of her work of the Museum, and she was very pleased with his rapidly increasing knowledge. He wrote in Arabic to Rishid, and in English to his sister, that worked really well. They praised his perseverance and were really happy that he was enjoying himself overseas.

Well, enjoying himself… Malik wasn't quite honest with them about that. His only real friend, it felt like, was his English tutor, who accepted him for who he was, and didn't judge him at all. He was the only one to take Malik as he was; everyone else here seemed to keep him at arm's length, distant even. Malik didn't realize very well that he was quite distant himself, and his busy schedule didn't allow much free socializing time. The only socializing he did was with Pegasus, as they shared dinner together (still awkward though), and sometimes a movie night (less awkward). Pegasus didn't have all the time in the world to spend with him, and nights when he wasn't there, Malik had no one. Crocketts, even though the man seemed to have lost a little of his stiff, reserved attitude, wasn't a choice to 'hang out' with.

To tell the truth, Malik was lonely. He was bitterly, crushingly lonely, all the time, and wherever he went. He was lonely at home (Pegasus' home) at night, and the only thing that was different at work during the day, was that then he was bored and lonely. He'd graduated from doing the (boring) computer readiness tasks that Watanabe had set for him at the beginning, to doing actual, real (but also boring) work instead. These days when he went to work at I2, it was his job to plan the layouts for descriptions of various Monsters, that other, higher-up people had written. It was mind-numbingly dull work, and Malik couldn't shake the sense that someone more experienced than he was could probably do it in his sleep, and that this was just a make-work assignment for him. He couldn't go to Watanabe and demand something better though, because there were still just enough of his layouts that came out with errors in them, that he could see he still needed the practice.

It had stopped being fun right after the first time one of his description layouts had run in an I2 ad in _GameInformer_, and he'd sent a copy of the magazine home to show Isis and Rishid. It had stopped being satisfying a long time before that. Now it was just drudgery, that felt like it would never end. All around him he saw kids his own age, working with tablets to design their own Duel Monsters cards, writing up descriptions and trying out their prototype cards in duels with other interns, and he was still stuck doing fucking layouts. How was this going to help him in the future? He wasn't even sure what he wanted to do with his life, but he knew for sure he didn't want to be a layout-designer.

Today was a Tuesday. It wasn't early enough in the week that he could look back at his (boring) weekend. It wasn't late enough that he could look ahead at the (boring) weekend to come. It was just a Tuesday, late in June, when the whole rest of the world was enjoying the start of summertime, but here in San Francisco it was still cold and dark and overcast. Malik arrived at I2 in one of the generic grey company cars, driven by someone else, because of course learning something interesting like driving for a change wasn't even on his agenda. He got to work a little early, and he went upstairs to the fourth floor where the Interns department was. He left the elevator and headed straight to his own cubicle, not because he was so eager to get started, but because he didn't know any of the other interns well enough to feel comfortable spending time with them before he got started.

And as he came down the hall toward his cubicle, he heard Watanabe's voice coming from the break room. "I don't get it," he said. "Why him?"

There was no reason at all, for thinking that the "him" in question was himself, but Malik still slowed down and listened more carefully.

"You know Crawford," another voice said, then laughed.

"Don't be stupid," said Watanabe. "You ever seen them together? He can't stand the kid. And I can't blame him. He's the weirdest kid I've ever seen. He's like wolf-boy or something. It's not just that he's got no computer skills - or any other kinds of skills at all that I can see either. - it's like he's never even dealt with people before, he's so awkward and strange. He creeps me the fuck out."

"Tell us how you really feel," came a third voice, but by that time, Malik had turned away. His face was set, and his stomach felt like it had a huge lump in it. And he walked the rest of the way down the hall to his cubicle, wondering what he was supposed to do with what he'd just heard.

As he sat down, Malik put his hands on his desk, as if he was about to turn his computer on. His fingers clenched like claws, and curled up into angry fists seconds later. Yeah, so, he shouldn't be surprised at all about this, should he? People would think the worst of him, no matter how hard he tried, no matter what. It wasn't his fault that he had grown up isolated way, that the only people he knew were members of his own family. - He'd been ten when Isis took him to the surface for the first time, and he'd been shocked at seeing people with brown hair, red hair, short, curling, straight… He simply hadn't seen anything like that before, as books and magazines (unless they were 100% about ancient scriptures) had been forbidden. He was what his family had made him, for crying out loud. How dare anyone judge him for it?

He forced himself to turn on the computer and he counted backwards and forwards to ten. _Let go of the anger_. Yeah, that was easier said than done. Maybe Rishid had left him a message on FaceBook or something, anything, that would cheer him up instead of thinking about Watanabe's words. Since recently, Rishid held a job as security guard officer or the like at the National Museum, thanks to Isis' influence. Now they didn't have poor little Malik to take care of, they could both do whatever they wanted, right? Have a life and party all night for example, now that the root of their problems was safely removed and dumped all the way, across an ocean, in that far away America.

On FaceBook, Rishid had posted about how he enjoyed his new job, but that what he liked most. was saving up his money to rent an apartment. "When you come back to us, Malik," he'd written, "and you're ready to go to university, there will be a room for you at my apartment, above ground, in Cairo. Then we can really start enjoying life." It was a nice thought, a safe thought, but Malik wasn't so sure if he was even going to university. He could barely survive in America. He'd probably get killed at university, where everyone would be so much different than him… no, _he_was the different one, he thought, and the thought was sour in his stomach.

"Good morning Malik, you're early today." Watanabe's voice was as bright as it was every morning.

"Good morning." Malik answered him through gritted teeth.

"All right, log in and start up your program," Watanabe said. "We're going to do some easy layouts today just to repeat what we've learned already, okay?"

_No, not okay_. "Fine," Malik bit back. It was grueling to be in the presence of the man and do more of this terribly tedious job, but Malik held on until break-time at 10:30.

Without further ado, Malik left his cubicle. And he didn't go to the coffee-break room, where he knew he'd find all his fellow trainees, absorbing free donuts, and talking over whatever exciting stuff they'd been doing today. He walked straight towards the elevators. He just wanted to get out, get away from the building, get some fresh air or something. Pegasus gave him some pocket money, a fairly generous amount. He had enough to take a taxi to go to the other side of town, if that's what he wanted. But he just wanted to leave. Jabbing the button, the elevator finally arrived and Malik all but jumped in.

* * *

><p>The first thing Pegasus heard about his missing intern, was at five that afternoon. He was in his office, reading over some proposed changes for the Duel Monsters restricted-card list, - He wasn't really crazy about having a restricted list, knowing from personal experience, the excitement that came from pulling out just the right, unstoppable card, at just the right moment, but he knew they made the game more fair, and that encouraged more new players to try it. – when he heard a soft knock on the door. Looking up, he wasn't surprised to see his personal assistant Crocketts in the doorway; what was surprising, was the worried look on the man's face.<p>

Crocketts didn't usually wear any expression at all. Pegasus had seen him face kidnapped children, and the prospect of his own imprisonment, and his face had been as blank as if he'd been walking home from work. For there to be any expression at all on it, much less the worried one there was now, something pretty major had to have happened.

"Master Pegasus sir," the loyal assistant said, "Malik is missing."

Missing. The boy he'd promised to take care of, the one who's sister had trusted to guard, to give a future to, was gone. And for all Malik was almost 18, Pegasus didn't even once thing that nothing had happened to him. It didn't even occur to him that he might be somewhere pleasant, enjoying a relaxing afternoon, and just have forgotten to leave a note telling anyone. Malik was a foreigner, he knew nothing about how to get by here in San Francisco. And besides, he hadn't left Pegasus' side for the whole two months he'd been here. Why would he all of a sudden have done it now?

_'You lost my brother? You let him disappear? I trusted you, Pegasus…_' – The words of blame were as clear as if Isis were right there to say them, as Pegasus gathered his work into his briefcase and prepared to go home. He was very sure she'd blame him; he kind of blamed himself. He'd promised to watch the boy, he thought, as he climbed into his company car, he'd said he'd do everything, to ensure Malik a future. The streets were crowded with rush hour traffic, and he had plenty of time in the car, to think about how badly his good intentions were turning out. So much for intentions, he thought, when you left out …something. …When you left out whatever important detail it was that he'd left out, which had brought all his intentions to this failure.

Time passed. Eventually the drive was over, and he was home. – Malik wasn't there, there was no message from him waiting, but Pegasus was home at least. And as he went into the house, he asked himself: Was any of this really his fault? Wasn't it Isis' fault really, for her irresponsibility in choosing someone like him to watch her brother? Who would do that? Who would take someone sensitive and neurotic like Malik, and give them to him, of all people? Who would say, _'here, here's a business man who practically crashed his company last year, and now he's busy all the time, trying to build it back up again. Why don't you stay with him, I'm sure he'll have loads of time for supervising you and making sure you stay on the straight and narrow'?_

It was 7:00 now. Watanabe had left for his own home. He'd hung around for as long as possible, wringing his hands and trying to pretend to be useful. – He'd hung around more than long enough for Pegasus to get all the information he needed: This so-called "best mentor with the company" had worked with Malik for almost three weeks, and he didn't know anything about the boy's interests. He had no clue where he'd go if he left Headquarters, or what he liked to spend his time doing. "He never left his desk," he kept on saying, his voice growing more and more panicky, "not even at lunchtime." Apparently, he never talked to his mentor, for all he was supposed to be so very good at _communicating with teens,_either.

If he was lucky, Watanabe would come back in the morning to find a job still waiting for him, but he wouldn't come back to work with Malik again. Isis' brother would be transferred to some other mentor who could actually _talk_ to him (if such a creature existed), when he came back, or perhaps it would be better to give him a warden instead. That is, _if_he came back. That was the problem, wasn't it? And that's why he and Crocketts were sitting around on the edge of the sofa in the living room, both of them waiting, without being sure what they were waiting for, for a phone call maybe, or for the grim knock on the door that would come when the cops found Malik's body.

It was 7:20, when he heard the sound of the front door opening. Pegasus was up and out in the front hall faster than …well, faster than Crocketts, who'd made his career on reacting to things quickly. He knew he was untidy (by his usual standards, anyway). Malik on the other hand, looked as sleek and satisfied as a well-groomed cat.

"Where in god's name were you?" Pegasus asked him. "What in god's name were you doing? How in the world have you managed to be here for practically a month, supposedly learning how to conduct yourself in an office, and you don't fucking know better than to disappear without telling your supervisor where you were going?"

* * *

><p>There'd been a moment on his way to the Crawford Manor when Malik had wondered about a possible angry reaction from Pegasus. He knew he should have left a note when he'd left the I2 building. On the other hand though, why should the CEO be angry? He was a burden, right? A difficult, slow, dim-witted child that would never learn a thing? Why in the world would anyone even care if he was gone, when they were all so eager to get rid of him? So Pegasus' reaction, angry after all, surprised and angered Malik in return. How he be upset, as if he cared about Malik disappearing!<p>

"Nobody bothered telling me, I had to say anything to my supervisor," he answered, not bothering to hide his own irritation. "It's not like he ever says anything to me. He just waits until I'm not around, then tells everyone else that I'm no good and stupid."

"Watanabe has been dealt with." Crocketts spoke for Pegasus, his raspy voice turning the words almost into a threat. "It's not his place to judge interns that way, it's his job to guide you. But that doesn't excuse your own behavior this afternoon."

"My _behavior_?" Malik's voice was slightly smoother, but the irritation was still audible. "All I did was hang out at a restaurant and talk with people from my home country. I missed hearing Egyptian, I missed eating koshari, I missed talking about the sun and the desert and how it all feels so different from America."

"That's enough," Crocketts cut him off. "You'd better apologize to Master Pegasus for your disobedience, and" -

"I won't," Malik answered. He didn't look at Crocketts, but instead, stared at Pegasus. "Does he always do the talking for you?"

* * *

><p>"Shut up, Crocketts." Pegasus barely spared a glance for his subordinate, instead, keeping his attention on Malik. The boy wasn't acting guilty, or ashamed, or even responsible, goddammit. He just stood right in the doorway, looking as sleek and satisfied as a well-petted cat. He just threw around excuses, not willing to admit that he'd done anything wrong.<p>

"No one told you to talk to your supervisor before leaving?" An apology from the boy would have defused the situation. Just a word or two, acknowledging that he'd screwed up, that he knew he still had a lot to learn, and didn't think he had the right to go around acting like he could do _what_ever he wanted, _when_ever he wanted to do it... probably. Okay, maybe nothing would have defused this situation, not after Malik came in and started blaming everyone else, and then threw that bit about Crocketts doing all the talking at him. Forget being a parent, or even a big brother. Pegasus went into full employer-mode, it was the only way he'd ever dealt with anything like this before. "Where were you raised," he said, "under a rock?"

There was a small thought at the back of his mind, a memory, something he'd heard Isis say once about how she and her family lived... What was it? He didn't remember. And as sure as he stood here with his mouth shut thinking until it came to him, Crocketts was going to start in doing all the talking again. "Some things are obvious," Pegasus said. "Anyone but an idiot knows them, anyone who wants to be employable, certainly. You knew when your break time was," he told Malik. "It was your responsibility to be back by the time it was over."

"You didn't even try, did you?" he said. "You were holed up in your restaurant, eating your Egyptian food and talking to your Egyptian friends. How many hours were you gone?" he asked him. "Ten? Twelve? You wasted Watanabe's time - Not just his time, you wasted my entire Security team's time, when they were out looking for you. Saruwatari's still got half of them out looking, men he had to call in off-hours. That's extra work for them, and overtime pay I'll have to give them, and why? Because you couldn't be bothered to leave a note? Or make a quick phone call?"

"And you don't like people thinking you're dumb?" he said. "Try not making dumb mistakes."

* * *

><p>"Yes, I was raised under a rock, thank you for pointing that out," Malik shot back. "Where did you think my lack of manners came from? From being raised like any other normal kid? Are you joking? I was kept busy studying those fucking ancient scriptures for the fucking memories of a fucking nameless Pharaoh my entire life, so eeeex~cuuuuuse me for not knowing the right thing to do immediately, after not even a month in this two-faced country!" Malik's anger wasn't coming from Watanabe's behavior alone. He didn't like the way any of them were talking to him, especially not after the fun and relaxing hours he spent at Ayla's. Perhaps some rationality in the back of his head pointed out to him that Pegasus (and by some extent, Crocketts) had every right to be upset about his disappearance, but… well, rationality wasn't always strong with Malik, and certainly not when he was angry.<p>

"I don't like dishonest people," he growled. "And I don't like being spoken to like that! Who do you think you are, my father? You know why I didn't call? Because I was finally feeling a little bit at home again, with people who understand me, instead of patronizing me at every step I take!" He was panting with anger, and as usual, and it clouded his mind. He felt.. some kind of sensation inside of him, connected to the anger, and it felt familiar and strange at the same time. As if he could let go, completely let go of himself and enjoy it… the pure rage boiling inside of him, to let it all out…

"You had it easy," he told Pegasus, "born in a wealthy family with a silver spoon in your mouth! You had everything and everyone at your disposal. What chances did I have, growing up with a father who's greatest anticipation and effort was to carve into his own son's living back? And now you sit there pretending to care that I disappeared for a few hours?"

* * *

><p>Malik had grown up how? And his father had done what? There were times when the boy could have told his story and Pegasus would have found plenty of compassion, or at least respect, to give for it. This was not the time. The creeping feeling of dread he'd felt when he'd been missing, was still too fresh. And behind him, Crocketts was still poking his goddamn nose in, trying to "run" things, as if to show loud and clear, just who he thought was competent to manage the situation, and – more importantly – who wasn't.<p>

"Perhaps a course in etiquette," the personal assistant mentioned so-helpfully. "We only have your best interests at heart, Malik. Master Pegasus and I want you to succeed." As if that was news to anyone. As if he'd have fucking given up his privacy, and let a stranger into his goddamn home if he _didn't_have their best interests at heart? Who would be so dumb as to think he'd bring Malik here just to watch the kid go down in flames?

The fact that he'd done just that, with several kids during the last rounds of the tournament on Duelist Kingdom did nothing to improve his mood. Nor did the fact that his most favored staff person, the assistant who'd been with him since childhood, was defying his order of silence. It was enough that Malik was defying him. Did he need Crocketts doing it as well? Pegasus looked back toward him with a nasty smile, his authoritative manner right on the verge of shattering into anger. "You'll keep your mouth shut," he said. "I told you once, and I won't tell you again. But there'll be consequences to pay if you disobey me."

Then he turned back to Malik. "Spare me the self pity," he said, "and the defensiveness. Bottom line here: I trusted you to come and go on your own. Apparently you aren't willing, or capable maybe, of doing it. If you want any more freedom, you're going to have to prove that you deserve it. You'll have to tell me where you're going, when you'll be back, and you'll have to come back when you said you would. Otherwise I'll assign you a bodyguard. Now go to your room, you've caused us enough trouble for one evening."

* * *

><p>"'Go to your room'? Is that your way to deal with anyone who disobeys your grand orders?" Malik tilted his head a little. "Do you tell <em>him<em>" - He nodded toward Crocketts - "to go to his room as well, so you can visit him and spank him if he's disobedient? But ah, I forget, he's not disobedient at all, is he? Nooo, he's a good boy, and he listens to his master, and perhaps his master will reward him. That's how you Americans work, isn't it? Shut up and be silent, otherwise there'll be hell to pay. Because you're so good at silencing people with your superior intellect, aren't you?"

Not giving Pegasus a chance to respond, Malik turned his head around, as if he was taking in the room all over again. "You're rich," he said. "You had every chance in the world. You used my tribe and our heritage to create even more wealth. Now you dare to talk to me like I'm an insolent kid? You don't give a fuck, Pegasus, so cut the pretense. You only think of yourself and of your own name, and how it would look bad on you if the 'leading CEO can't find new intern that was entrusted to him' would appear in the news. So go to your own room, and think about that!"

* * *

><p>Actually, there'd been a subtext of wanting Crocketts to leave the room, in what Pegasus had told him. He saw no reason for his assistant to stay there. Was he not capable of handling one insubordinate teenager on his own? What did this situation call for anyway, besides a verbal spanking, followed by everyone going their separate ways after the house had been shut up for the night? That the assistant was still there, was something of a frustration. Pegasus couldn't help reading the implication into it, that he was incompetent, and needed someone with more experience to make sure he took care of things properly.<p>

He didn't want to do anything about it though, not if he didn't have to. Likewise, he didn't want to do anything about Malik, no punishments, no undignified squabbling in the entry-hall. The boy was going upstairs, wasn't he? He was being kind of mouthy about it, but what of that? That was normal for a teenager, surely?

It was actually kind of a relief to see him acting like a normal teenager for once. The weird thing about Malik in Pegasus' understanding, had been his earlier, sullen silence. It was kind of a relief to be free to talk directly to him, not to have to mince words and tiptoe around things in some kind of desperate effort to be always tactful, as he'd been doing ever since the boy had arrived. "Do you talk to your sister like that too?" Pegasus' voice was silky, snide. "All that nastiness, and the vulgar insinuations?"

"You should be ashamed," he said. "Isis is a good woman. She sent you here so you'd have the chance to make something of your life. None of us want anything but what's best for you, so stop pretending you have a right to complain. You acted ungratefully today. But you're not going to do it again, now are you? I'll get you a cell phone. You'll call when you're going out, and you'll tell us when you'll be back. Just do that, and everything will be fine. I won't have to assign a bodyguard to you, and I won't have to tell your sister you don't know how to handle a good opportunity."

"I'm going upstairs." Standard negotiation tactic: If you're sure enough that your opponent will agree with you, however unwillingly, don't bother standing around and waiting for him to do it. The agreement can be assumed. "Crocketts," - He glanced at his assistant. - "bring me up a glass of the '94 Syrah, chef opened at dinner. And find the Konami prospectus. I want to send a response tonight." He turned away from Malik in the doorway, passed Crocketts and climbed the curved staircase that led up to the bedrooms. "I'll see you in the morning, Malik," he said. "I assume you'll have remembered your manners by then."

* * *

><p><em>Ashamed? Isis was a good woman?<em>If it wasn't for Pegasus' retreating back, Malik would've thrown his head back and laughed out loud, cackling until he ran out of breath. Isis had perfectly manipulated her brother out of her way, he thought, shipping him off to far away America under the guise of 'learning'. What fools, the both of them! Malik was never going to learn, that was for sure. He was beyond learning, and he would never understand how, what and why; sixteen years living underground had marked him for the rest of his life. He would always be awkward and outcast, and his anger would always be there, his delicious pretty anger, that kept his darker side alive.

With Pegasus gone, there was no one but him and that Crocketts guy, who seemed to be… embarrassed? His face was usually emotionless, but now there was something there, a little anger of his own - Or was it disappointment? Not that it mattered much.

"Be a good little servant boy and fetch your Master what he wants," Malik said. "Why not be an extra good boy, and bring it to him naked, with a dog collar around your neck."

"That's revolting," Crocketts responded. He shook his head. "What's gotten into you? What's the matter? You've worked so hard, done well on your English lessons. - Is it because of what Watanabe's said? Are you going to let one comment ruin everything you've accomplished? Prove him wrong, prove them all wrong!"

"Maybe I don't want to prove them wrong," Malik said. "I'm not going to drop on my knees to get other people's approval. They can suffocate in their own narrow-minded opinions."

Crocketts sighed. "Suit yourself," he responded. "Go to bed, sleep on it. I have work to do." He turned around and left without looking back, while behind him, Malik followed soundlessly.


End file.
